


How to Save a Life

by MidnightSpeeches



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Break-Downs, Depression, Fighting, Hyperventilating, ITS ACCIDENTAL SELF HARM DONT WORRY, Kissing, M/M, MY SONS, Manga Spoilers, More angst, Nightmares, Reunion, Self-Blame, Self-Harm, Separation, Shion Needs To Start Treating Himself Better, Suffering, not even sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightSpeeches/pseuds/MidnightSpeeches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So close, yet so far apart. Two years after the split between Shion and Nezumi and they still haven’t reunited. Leaving each other was the hardest thing either of them ever had to do, and it’s taking its toll. Moving on for Nezumi is so much harder than he imagined - he needed Shion like he needed to breathe - so what happens when they incidentally meet again? West Block is supposed to be a place of the past, but will it become the start of their future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nezumi's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys!
> 
> So this is my first PUBLISHED fanfic. I write a lot but I've never posted it but decided to share my angst and smut with the world. 
> 
> WARNING: Spoilers for the No. 6 Manga
> 
> I thought the end of No. 6 was incredibly depressing (they deserved better) and so i decided to add to it. Please don't hate me... Plus this fic was inspired by the song How To Save a Life by The Fray (LISTEN TO IT AHHHH)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! More will be coming soon (I'm guessing around 4/5 chapters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nezumi isn't as strong as people seem to believe. He has a weakness; Shion, and after two years of separation, he's reached breaking point.

_“Where did I go wrong?”_

He was shaking. He has been for god knows how long. The moon was the only source of light; not surprising considering the time of the night. It was silent save for his harsh and choked breaths. Nezumi used to find comfort and solace in the silence, now it just suffocated him. Everything reminded Nezumi of him. The white of the moon an echo of the boy’s pale hair, the soft grass a reminder of his compassion. He’s lost track of time ever since he gave a promise in the form of a kiss and turned his back. His face remained impassive, blank towards the hurricane tearing him apart. Every step just got worse, each breath more choked than the last. The memory of that boy was the air he struggled to breathe. That memory was all he had left. That seemed to be the only thing that kept him moving. Left foot, right foot. Years passed, despite them feeling like decades, and he was still trying to convince himself that it was the right choice. He was Nezumi’s past: he had to move on. Right? Every day he ignored the images that were seared into his mind. A hopeful smile, a laugh that shook his pale hair, eyes that sparked with honesty and pain. He ignored the way his heart would clench, instead focusing on the harsh rays of the sun...

_“I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness”_

He had locked away every bitter memory, every harsh encounter from his past. He blamed the loss of the boy on those memories. Each encounter that led to the destruction of No. 6 had caused them to split. He can’t have nice things. They just got broken. That’s the way it was with Nezumi, everything he loved got destroyed. Including people. You think he would’ve learnt by now; his family murdered, his home destroyed, but no. That boy still managed to snake his way past the iron cage around his heart, and Nezumi let him. He had believed everything would finally be ok. They would figure out a way to work everything out.

_“And I would have stayed up, with you all night”_

He was naïve. That boy was breaking, and it took a trip to the Correctional Facility to see it. He remembers watching the boy shoot the man that had hurt him, remembers the boy allowing Nezumi to kill the men. “It’s either them or us” Nezumi remembers him saying. He remembers pausing on the stairs, so thoroughly shocked at the lack of compassion in those words, at how he had changed from when he met him, and he had blamed himself. It was watching the boy stitch him up, hands shaking and eyes wet, that Nezumi realized he would have to leave. He refused to be the destruction of that boy. Nezumi knew full well he couldn't tell him, for the boy would reply, “I don't care”. So a few days after the city was caught ablaze by flames, rebellion and hope, he told the boy he was leaving. He made an excuse about moving forward, both of them, and kissed the boy on the lips and said, “it's a promise kiss, I promise we will meet again”. The boy nodded, eyes filled with hope, and Nezumi turned away before the boy could read the lie in his eyes. Nezumi would move on. He has too. That's what he told himself anyway.

_“Had I known how to save a life”_

Nezumi walked away for the boy. He did everything for him. Nezumi hoped he would understand and forgive him once he realized he wasn't coming back. That boy had a future; he just couldn't have one without Nezumi. Nezumi couldn't offer him anything but poverty and depression. This was Nezumi’s way of saving that boy’s life. Nezumi would do anything to save that boy, even if it meant destroying himself.

* * *

 

He lost track of how long ago it was since he walked away. He was shaking. He can’t do this. He missed him. He missed him with every inch, every hair, every essence of his being. He fucking missed Shion. He missed his pale hair, his soft eyes, his warmth, his naïve hope, everything. He wanted to hold to him, he wanted to tell him everything would be ok, that they would be ok. Nezumi let out a strangled breath and leant against the tree. His hands pressed against his eyes, hoping to hold back the tears that had already fallen. Drip. Drop. Drip. Through the choked sobs he could hear the sound of his tears hit the dry dirt. Three drops. Three drops for each part of Nezumi that Shion had affected; his heart, his mind, his soul. Three drops for each part that missed him. He wants to wake up every morning to Shion. He wants to be the one that cooks Shion breakfast every morning before work. He wants to be the one that Shion wants. He wants Shion. His body shudders and his knees collapse as he slides down against the tree. He drops his hands away from his face - he can’t stop crying so there’s no point in trying – and clutches his knees against his chest. Great shuddering sobs rack his body in full now: his body’s way of expressing his pain. He’s never broken down like this before. Not once. Not when his parents died, or when he was living alone. Not even when he was shot at the age of twelve and Shion helped stitched him back up. Nezumi never believed in magic or miracles, but the day Shion opened those windows and screamed at the sky, Nezumi wondered for the first time if they actually existed. Shion, a citizen of No. 6, was the one who taught Nezumi to believe, to hope. After years of pain and suffering and darkness, Shion showed him light. And here he was, years later, crying in a forest in the middle of the night.

“Why the fuck am I crying godamnit?” He squints his eyes shut against the tears.

“Why,” he whispers to the night. “Where did I go wrong?” His breaths are coming faster, his tears flowing harder. The front of his shirt is wet from his tears, but Nezumi doesn't notice. He can’t do this without Shion. He missed him. He inhales shakily and leans forward, throwing his clenched hands against the dusty ground.

“Shion, godamnit I lov-“ He chokes on the word. “I love you. I love you so much.” Nezumi’s tears fall down against the ground, causing the dirt to darken.

“Please don't leave me Shion. Please don't leave me alone again,” he whispers softer.

“Please. I don't want to lose you”. His hair falls in front of his face, his tears wetting the ends. He opens his eyes, watching as the wind plays with his fringe, the dark strands mixing in with the dusk of the sky; the image as blurry from his tears as his emotions inside. Nezumi knows he can’t go back and see him again but godamnit he wants to. He wants to so badly. Nezumi doesn't cry. He doesn't get close with people. Yet here he was crying because he missed Shion, despite being the one who walked away. Nezumi gave a self-depreciating laugh; he was so pathetic.

He grabbed at the bark of the tree with shaky hands and pulled himself up, shaking with weak legs. His eyes stung as he wiped his tears away, getting dirt from his hands in them. He cursed as he blinked away the dust. Cursing again as his stomach growled. He slid his blurry eyes across to his shoulder, where Cravat, squeaked.

“I’m fine buddy, aren’t I always?” He squeaked again, louder this time. “You miss him too huh?” Nezumi’s lips curled into his trademark smirk.

“Lets worry about stuff we actually can do something about ok?” Cravat squeaked again. Nezumi’s smirk fell off his face.

“No, we can’t do something about Shion. I meant food.” Nezumi watched as the sun rose from behind the bleak snow caped mountains, painting the previously blank sky a hue of pink and orange. He had been crying for that long? He blushed, ashamed of himself and his act of weakness. The sky looked happy, hopeful even. Nezumi scowled, his blush receding. Why was he thinking like this? He physically shook his head and ran a finger along the fur on Cravats back. Nezumi’s stomach rumbled again. He needed food, so did Cravat. He hoisted his bag off a branch from the tree and threw it over his shoulder. He looked towards the horizon and walked, ignoring his exhaustion. Nezumi needed to keep moving forward, for his and Shion’s sake. Shion was his past...wasn't he?

* * *

 

Not once did Nezumi recognise the landmarks he had passed months before, nor that he was walking in a circle; the town of No. 6 only a few days away.


	2. Shion's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years of desperation, longing and pain had done this to him. His skin now had a pale tint to it, his bones more prominent, and the bags under his eyes seemingly permanent. He ignored the pleas from Inukashi and Rikiga to take care of himself, often brushing it off as the causation of work. They all knew it wasn't true. It was him: the ghost of his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up being longer than I originally imagined. Idk how i feel about how this chapter was written but i hope you guys like it anyway. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a reunion, so stay tuned (please?).

Two years. Two years since he had watched Nezumi walk away. Two years since he was given a promise in the shape of a kiss and watched Nezumi turn away. Shion glanced at his clock: 23rd of July, 10:24am.

It had become a sort of ritual for Shion really. Everyday he would check the calendar, hoping today would be the day Nezumi would finally come home: home to him. A month after the destruction of the Correctional Facility, Shion became a high-ranking member of the committee in charge of the rehabilitation of the ‘new’ No.6. He was offered a newly furnished home, but turned it down, quite content to live with his mother behind their bakery. He had given the home to a few of the more needing residents of West Block, which some of his fellow committee members frowned upon. Many people were still wary of each other, forming terms such as ‘outsider’ and ‘insider’. He shook his head: irrelevant.

Today was his day off, first day off in weeks actually. He had taken to sleeping inside of his work lodgings often during late nights, often coming home days later, much to the dismay of his mother. He ignored the worried looks from Karan; he knew well enough on his own how bad he looked. Two years of desperation, longing and pain had done this to him. His skin now had a pale tint to it, his bones more prominent, and the bags under his eyes seemingly permanent. He ignored the pleas from Inukashi and Rikiga to take care of himself, often brushing it off as the causation of work. They all knew it wasn't true. It was him: the ghost of his partner.

A lingering presence, one which day in and day out reminded him of what could’ve been. He pushed past the memories, the pain, and focused on the task in front of him. Today he was helping his mother bake bread. Karan seemed quiet adamant against Shion working today, thinking he needed to rest, but he had to do something. She relented eventually, understanding that the quiet caused Shion to remember. He didn't want to remember. He refused to selfishly wallow in what-if’s and could’ve been’s. Not when Nezumi was trying his best to move on. It seemed only right. His mother’s cough startled him out of his stance. He startled once again when he realized he has completely kneaded the dough into something inedible. He mumbled an apology at his mother, who only smiled at him pitifully. He swallowed the lump in his throat and started to bake a new batch.

* * *

 

_“Where did I go wrong?”_

11:09pm. Shion jerked awake, chest heaving as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. Sweat glistened off his brow and fringe. He fisted his hands in his sheets and frantically pulled. His legs were stuck. He gasped a little in fear and yanked harder. He freed the sheet from his body, ignoring it as it fell silently to the wooden floorboards. Just a sheet, not bodies. Just a sheet, not bodies. That was the mantra he repeated to himself (he repeated this more nights than he wanted to admit). It took 15 minutes to remind himself that he was no longer under the Correctional Facility. He didn't have corpses falling around him anymore. He didn't have to climb them. He shuddered at the memory and attempted to shut it out. He flung his legs over his bed and opened his sole bedroom window. Embracing the way the cold of the floor stung his bare feet; it helped orient him. He sighed as the cold, brisk air of the night cooled his sweat-covered skin. He was safe. He was home. But what was home without Nezumi? Shion sighed. Today was not his day.

2:13am. He’d been awake for 3 hours, staring at the ceiling fan above his bed slowly rotate. 3 hours since he’d awoken from his nightmare and reminded himself that he was in fact home. He had an arm thrown over his face, covering the silent tears that fell from his blurry eyes and wet his neck. There was no reason to cover his face, his mother was stayed the night at Lily and Renka’s house. She was helping look after the new baby. Shion was covering his eyes because he was ashamed.

Every second of every day he tried to bury those memories, but those memories fought back; especially those memories of him. They were the clearest. Memories of his smirk, his wit, his voice when he sang, his long hair were what made him stifle small gasps of pain. The hand over his face clenched his hair. Shion grit his teeth. The memories of his kindness, his perseverance, the way he taught Shion to dance, his love for books; those are the memories that caused Shion to sob. All the little things that caused Nezumi to be who he is are seared into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, images of him swam up. He missed him so much. He missed Cravat and the rest of the rats snuggling around the bed with him, listening to Nezumi read Shakespeare (one of his favourites). Shion bit his lip in an attempt to hold in the pained sob that was stuck in his chest. He wanted Nezumi to hold him.

_“I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness”_

He wanted to feel his warmth again. He wanted to be with Nezumi again. Nezumi was the one who taught him who he is. If Nezumi had never climbed through his window that night, he never would’ve grown. He had been brought up in an environment where success, wealth and peace were valued far above self-discovery and raw emotion. Nezumi broke the ignorant wall of ice around Shion’s heart, introducing Shion to emotion: to irritation, to pain, to pride, to joy, and to love. His heart was still fragile against the harsh horrors of the world at the start. That changed. Every starving child, every empty home, every lifeless body he saw slowly hardened his heart. He still couldn't decide if he regretted that yet. He did know one thing however, his heart never hardened towards Nezumi: despite the assassins’ warnings.

It took him awhile to discover that the feelings he had for Nezumi were different from the ones he felt for his friends were different. Perhaps it was when he was stitching Nezumi’s unconscious body up inside the Correctional Facility that he realized. Maybe it was even before then, during the manhunt. That was when he realized he could truly lose Nezumi, when he realized that that was the worst possible thing that could happen. He loved Nezumi. He never got to tell him that. He debated saying it before Nezumi left, but figured that it would only make it harder for Nezumi to move on. Shion doubted he’d ever get to say it to his face. He’d accepted that he would probably never see Nezumi again, but it still hurt like hell every time he thought it.

The sobs were coming in earnest now; full body sobs that shook his chest and legs. He curled himself into a ball, ignoring the wetness of the pillow against his cheeks, already accustomed to the tears. He gripped his knees and curled as tight as he could, hoping that if he tried hard enough he would curl into a ball of nothingness and escape existence. Anything was better than this empty, hopeless _pain_ he felt every time he thought of Nezumi. He never let himself cry in front of people, not in front of his mother. He would not give her another reason to worry. He wouldn’t break someone else’s heart.

_“And I would have stayed up, with you all night”_

He broke Nezumi’s. He knew that. He knew that Nezumi blamed himself for the pain Shion had suffered, that he tore himself away from Shion in an attempt to protect him and move on. He wandered if Nezumi had succeeded. He hoped Nezumi had moved on, and was now living happily, but at the same time, a sick, twisted part of him hoped Nezumi was suffering as much as he was. He didn't know what hurt worse: Nezumi moving on or Nezumi suffering like he is. He didn't want to think about another persons’ hands on Nezumi, about Nezumi kissing another. His hands clenched around his knees, shaking due to either the cold from the breeze being emitted from the open window or pain and anger, he didn't know. He guessed the latter. He missed Nezumi. He would do anything to have him back. He wanted Nezumi to hold him.

_“Had I known how to save a life”_

Shion let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a yell. He’s gone. He’s never coming back so why can’t he just get over him? He ripped himself up from his bed, feet tangling in the sheets that rested at the foot of his bed. He tripped, cursing when his knees smacked against the wood. He stumbled when he righted himself, the tears in his eyes blurring his surroundings. The room was dark, but he knew where to go anyway, having gone there so many times, the path etched in his mind. He wanted to go to the closet; it was where he kept the book. Inukashi had brought it to him. Shion had nodded his thanks at the time, bowing his head to hide the tears that pricked behind his eyes, refusing to let the dog keeper know just how much that small gesture meant to him. A book from their old room; a room Shion was too afraid to visit.

The old, wooden door creaked as he yanked it open. He fumbled in the dark, ignoring the stacks of discarded clothes that no longer fit him, until he found the object. Shion let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and clutched the book close to his chest. Shakespeare’s Macbeth, the story that Shion would constantly ask Nezumi to recite for him; content just listening to Nezumi’s rich voice echo around their small room.

Shion whimpered and glared at the book, as if it were the sole reason for his suffering. His fingers clutched the red, velvet bound book. He was warm, dangerously so. His sadness became overwhelmed by anger. Anger at Nezumi or himself, he wasn't sure. Shion let out a strangled scream.

“It isn’t _fair_!”

Shion threw the object in his hand at the ground, watching as it bounced back: the pages flying open. Shion smiled at the slight satisfaction it brought him. He looked across at the items that were stacked along his desk. Items that he once saw as objects of satisfaction and comfort, he now saw as a release for his anguish. He swept his arms along the desk, brushing each piece off onto the floor, laughing through his tears as they broke.

_Tears? He was still crying?_

Shion let out another cry and kicked at the broken pieces on the floor, which he found ironic considering he was broken too. Grab, throw, kick. Object after object he destroyed. Minutes went by before he realized what he was doing, and hastily stopped. _Was he that broken that he would act out like this?_ He distantly hoped that Nezumi was hurting as bad as him, because maybe he would come back…

He felt a sharp stinging pain on his right hand and glanced down, a gash no wider than a 20-cent coin lay across the fleshy part of his palm; the red of the blood a contrast to his pale skin. _When did he cut himself?_ He watched as the blood welled from his skin and dripped onto the cold wooden floor: one, two, three. Three drops for each part of Shion that Nezumi had affected: his heart, his mind, and his soul. Each drop dragged a ragged breath from his chest. His vision swam. The objects that Shion had thrown across his room only moments before became a muddled mixture of colours. Each breath that he struggled to take felt like a knife scraping across his lungs. Faster and faster his breathing became.Faster and faster his tears came.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was hyperventilating, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Shion couldn't seem to get enough air. His legs buckled underneath him, falling onto the now frigid floor. The dramatic change in thermodynamics between his body and the floor should have been enough to shock him aware, but the part of his brain occupied by Nezumi overpowered that.

He curled in on himself on the ground, hugging the nearest object he could find to his chest, hiccuping harsh breaths through his sobs. Shion lay there, sobbing Nezumi's name, until exhaustion got the better of him and he fell into a deep, restless sleep.

* * *

 

That was how Karan found him at 6:08am, curled in a ball in the middle of his messy room, streaks of tears lining his cheeks, a book cradled to his chest.

* * *

 

It was 9:17am when Shion awoke, a blanket cast across his legs. He realized his mother must have placed it on him when she got home. He figured she would’ve guessed what had happened last night, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and he doubted it would be the last. He just couldn't do this without Nezumi.

* * *

 

Little did either of them know, it was only a matter of time before they were to encounter each other again.


	3. Reunion Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nezumi finds himself back at West Block. He's kind of an idiot and gets into a few fights though. Turns out that Nezumi isn't as far away from Shion as he thought he was.

The streets were as dirty as he remembered, if not slightly better smelling. No longer did the smell of decay and rotten food permeate the air. No longer did he see the malnourished and dying hiding in the cracks of the street, ignored by those who had lost their heart to survival.

What got to him wasn't the smell, or even the lighter atmosphere… it was the colours; the colours of a sunset, a forest, a crying sky; the colours of hope. Nezumi was used to the worn down and dirty clothing of people too lazy or too poor to care or get new clothes.

 

When the wall broke, so did the tradition of overripe and rotting food, stolen clothes and weapons in the market. He glanced around at the various shops and outlets that now crowded along the streets of West Block. Clean clothes, fresh food, and is that furniture? He snickered to himself; he figured that people could have this luxury now, no longer satisfied with the empty shelters associated with their past poverty. 

Despite it being dawn, he was already wiping away the sweat that gathered on the back of his neck. The endless stream of bustling bodies didn't exactly relieve him of the humidity, but he was used to it. He glanced up at the crumbling remnants of the wall; the barrier between ignorant safety and hopeless survival destroyed by the will of those who saw the truth. Swirls of orange, pink and yellow decorated the horizon, marking the arrival of soon stifling sun. He squinted against the already bright sky. _When’s the last time he actually stood still long enough to appreciate something as mundane as the inevitable dawn?_

Nezumi winced when a particularly eager individual barged into him; bring him out of his reverie. She wasn't bad looking he realized when she stopped to apologise. Her dark hair tied in a pony, shining in the soft light, her soft blue eyes. He couldn't help but realize how much her appearance contradicted _his._ She brought her hands to her mouth, gasping.

“I am so sorry, please forgive me,” the concern in her voice stopped him short. He guessed that was the other change, people actually cared now. He waved her away, “I’m fine. It’s fine”. She nodded and ran off, keen to continue her shopping.

He shouldn't have come here, but it's not like it was a conscious thought. Nezumi never realized that he had been walking in a giant circle for two years, his consciousness obviously not wanting to detach itself from the boy with the white hai- no, it hadn’t wanted to detach itself from its home. He figured it wouldn't hurt to visit again, to see just how his home had changed over the years.

And it had changed, quite a lot. He had to give it to humans: they were resilient.

Nezumi wouldn't admit it, but he missed this place…

He glanced at the remnants of the broken and crushed ruble on the horizon again, squinting when the sunlight hit his eyes dead on. The sun was beating down on him now in full, causing sweat to trickle down his forehead. When he went to wipe it off, he winced as his muscles protested and groaned at the movement. _Now they decided to hurt?_ Nezumi gingerly massaged the bruises and scratches that decorated his arms and neck. He was damn lucky to survive, he realized.

* * *

 

 

_\- Three Hours Ago -_

_“Do you have an appointment with my luggage kind sir?” Nezumi asked, leaning against the tree. The man in question stiffened but didn't move. Nezumi smirked, this guy seemed like a bloody rookie. He clearly didn't notice Nezumi walk up to him, and he didn't even sneak up either. The guy didn't look armed, but then again neither did Nezumi 78% of the time despite being armed 100% of the time. The man raised his head, and Nezumi felt his muscles tense up, maybe not a rookie then. He recognised this man, but what was he doing out he so far?  
_

_He smoothed out his facial expression into one of neutral curiosity, and relaxed his muscles, “fellow West Blocker, to what do I owe this pleasure of robbery?”  
_

_He was one of the gang leaders that lived in West Block, can’t remember the guys name for the life of him though. West Block essentially had 3 types of people: the gangs, the loners, and the survivors. The gangs consisted of groups of people who robbed, hurt and killed people for a living – you got an issue with someone and these guys could either get the dirt on him or kill them. Killing was a more viable option; nobody gave a shit if they were blackmailed. Dignity isn’t something a lot of us have – surviving in West Block destroyed your dignity, and you were lucky to survive with your pride intact._

_Gang members generally got a lot of money, and thrived. It’s not like anyone gave enough of a shit to try and stop them; you were either desperate enough, or just plain fucking stupid. People who opposed them generally ended up lying dead somewhere with only the birds paying any attention to the rotting corpse._

_The loners were the ones who didn't do anything really, the ones that faded into the background. They survived on the bare minimum and didn't really talk to anyone. No one really knew them or cared enough to find out. The ones who refused to acknowledge their poverty and bad luck._

_The survivors, that's what I was. You didn't just sit down in a comfortable chair and have meals brought to you; you fought tooth and nail to get even a scrap of bread. You do what you can to survive, and in your own way. You don’t care who you throw under the bus as long as you survive. Relying on others was a weakness, one people couldn't afford. You fight; you survive; that's just how it works.  
_

_There were two ways to survive or thrive in West Block: money or fear. Money was a rarity found only in No. 6, and many people made livings by trading with the ‘traitors’ inside the city._

_People were pigs, dangle a carrot in front of them and they’ll run until the fall off the edge of a cliff; too blinded by their greed to see what was in front of them._

_Fear also worked pretty well. Empty threats don't mean shit. If you threaten someone then you better goddamn follow through with it. Hesitating isn’t a luxury you can afford. You hurt someone, you get a reputation and people leave you alone. Fighting was a technique Nezumi learnt at a young age; you can’t always rely on your wits to save you. How can you reason with a person who sees no logic? Sometimes violence is the only thing people will understand, and in West Block - it’s most of the time._

_Cravat’s soft squeak brought Nezumi out of his daze. The man was still standing there, his body gait looked like a prom date that just got cheating on them, however his eyes had all the malice of a survivor of West Block. He recognised those eyes; Nezumi had the same ones. He saw them every time he caught his reflection in some dusty glass or a dirty puddle. Cold, like all the warmth and emotion had been snuffed out by the animosity and hardships of surviving, leaving only a shell of necessity._

_“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out in a place like this?” The man’s voice was gruff, sounding vaguely like he swallowed gravel for a living. He straightened up, flinging a backpack – Nezumi’s backpack – over his shoulder. Completely unashamed that he was caught. Completely sure Nezumi would let him go with no fight whatsoever. How cute._

_Nezumi decided to take that as a compliment. He_ was _quite pretty after all; it was his job to be. Well, more specifically, his job was to be alluring. Let his hair out, sing a few songs, have a memory better than a cactus and voila – a recipe for riches. Some would argue that a room smaller than their mother’s bosom wasn't exactly luxury, but they– he, had food, shelter and hygiene, more than a lot of people in West Block had. Inwardly he grimaced at his mistake, Nezumi didn't exactly feel like reminiscing right now._

_“It was always my dream to ride a steed into the sunset, hair trailing in the wind.” Nezumi smiled gracefully, smiling like he would on stage._

_“Really?” The man was actually serious. The man genuinely thought Nezumi dreamt about such bullshit._

_Ah sarcasm, the ability to speak idiot without the idiot realising. You gotta love it._

_“Unfortunately my great steed does not exist, and I would rather drown myself in rat piss than consider such a flimsy, idiotic dream” Nezumi smiled sweetly for emphasis, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence. His actions completely opposed to the words he just spoke._

_The man grit his teeth, angered that he had fallen for such an idiotic ploy. Clearly he wasn't the type to enjoy public humiliation – there goes Nezumi’s plans for next Saturday._

_The man clearly decided he was done with this little chat, and turned away. He got roughly 3 steps away before Nezumi tutted._

_Nezumi pouted, accentuating his lush pink lips. “You would disrespect such a maiden as I?” He batted his eyelashes for emphasis. The man turned around, obviously expecting to yell or say something, but was completely shocked at the image before him. Nezumi was no longer the sarcastic little shit he usually was, but had transformed into a woman of elegance and grace._

_When the man turned away, Nezumi had undone his hair, and altered the positioning of his clothing. It wasn't that difficult to become someone else – alter your physical appearance, pose a little bit, speak differently and suddenly you’ve morphed into your grandmother. Well, at least that's what Nezumi had been like the first time he tried to act like another person on stage. His makeup was flimsy, his hair a tangled mess, he voice like a sharp and pitiful whine. However, he knew now that he was different. Years of performing on stage, of being someone else, had perfected his ability to deceive._

_Nezumi angled his body so that the wind caught the edges of his hair, causing it to float in front of his face. Nezumi slid his eyes to the ground in shyness, and tucked the stray hair behind his ear. He knew for a fact that it was alluring. It was like the prey and the predator. Men, like the one in front of him, enjoyed dominance and fear, they were the predator. Anything that caught their gaze, whether it a rich male or a starving child became their prey, and Nezumi would pretend to be the prey. It was only after his dagger was 4 inches through the male’s neck before they realized that Nezumi wasn't a kitten, he was the lion – and lions are considered the king’s for a reason._

_The man ahead of him saw nothing more than a delicate woman, nothing more than prey. Unfortunately, that illusion didn't last long. Nezumi was good, he knew that, but against a heterosexual male who already knew who he was? No way in Hell could he fool him._

_“Now, now darling, no need to resort to seduction attempts.” The man chuckled, already out of his daze._

_Nezumi’s voice was delicate; like petals amongst a breeze. “You would turn away a woman such as I?”_

_“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re no more a woman then I am.”_

_Obviously mate, I was just hoping to temporarily seduce you with my charming good looks, whilst I grab my bag and scram. Unfortunately, my luck is non-existent. Perhaps my lack of chest region ruined the effect?_

_Nezumi dropped the act. No need to maintain this pretense and waste this effort anymore. Nezumi’s gracefulness and femininity dropped away, his smile dissipating into one of malice and sarcasm._

_“Well damn. There goes my hopes, dreams and expectations”._

_In all honestly, the quick transition from Nezumi to_ Nezumi _unnerved quite a few people, including himself._

_The man chuckled. Wonderful. Perhaps Nezumi could make him laugh hard enough to render him unconscious? He was left wheezing, clutching his stomach as he rode out the last of his humour. He wiped a tear away from his eye and saluted Nezumi._

_  
“I must be off now, thanks for the entertainment_ Eve”

_The way he emphasized Nezumi’s stage name just cemented his suspicion – this guy definitely knew who he was._

_“Now that's hardly fair. You know my name yet I don't know yours. Do enlighten me”_

_The man nodded, as if considering whether or not to give away the information. Come on man, it’s not a bloody war machine launch code; it’s your name. Another thirteen tireless seconds, seconds Nezumi could have wasted drinking away his regret, the man finally decided to announce his name.  
_

_“Only because you’re such an entertaining young fella. It’s Ken.”_

_Well, that was anticlimactic. After all the suspense I was expecting it to be some long ass foreign name with at least 17 syllables._

_“Well, Ken, I was wondering if you could be so kind as to allow me to take my bag back?” Nezumi asked. Perhaps it was a foolish question, but one can hope at least._

_He chuckled again. That god-forsaken laugh._

_“Hate to break it to ya but it’s my bag now. I’m planning on doing some wandering out further, I’m sick of this bloody Block. However, I don't have the supplies I need – alas you were put in my way. It must be destiny”_

_Nezumi was getting real sick of this guy’s shit._

_“I really doubt my destiny is to be robbed by some second rate mole rat with yellow teeth.” Now that he has said it, he wished he could take it back. Nezumi was rather hoping to retrieve his bag_ without _violence for once. He sighed. Whoops?_

_Ken growled and dropped the bag, dust and pebbles being kicked up from the impact. Distinctly Nezumi worried about the condition of his bag, however most of his brain was currently occupied in taking up a defensive stance._

_Ken’s first blow was easy enough to miss; a straight right hook to the nose. He was slow, but judging by his size, he had enough power that Nezumi didn't want to be hit. Ken stumbled as Nezumi dodged the blow, heaving himself upright at the last second. Nezumi chuckled, probably not the smartest thing to do in the middle of a fistfight though. Unfortunately, Ken’s second hit landed. Nezumi stumbled back, clutching his jaw, all remnants of laughter gone from his face. He shook himself off, jumping back to get distance between them._

_He really didn't want to deal with this right now, he was hungry and tired. He raised his arms as Ken came at him, eyes widening when he saw the flash of silver in Ken’s hand._

_“Great, he has an actual weapon-” Nezumi whined as he dodged a slash aiming for his stomach, “whilst I have an empty stomach and possibly greying hairs. Awesome.” Despite Nezumi’s sarcastic speech, his blood was running cold. He dodged another strike to his stomach; his opponent’s fist this time. Nezumi yelped in surprise as he tripped backwards, landing on the dry, red dust. He scrambled backwards, attempting to get away from the giant of a man. He hated being afraid, so he tried for sarcasm. Never show people your true emotions that was his general rule._

_“Look dude, killing people won’t make you popular with the ladies.”_

_Ken’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, as if he had remembered something, and he stopped short._

_“Not trying to kill me anymore? Great. Awesome. Thanks” Nezumi let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, listening to it rattle out of his tight chest. He closed his eyes in relief, which only later would he realize was quite an idiotic move. Ken’s gruff voice jerked his eyes open._

_“Speakin’ of partners, where’s ya pretty little albino boy?” Nezumi froze. He didn't want to remember him, didn't want to acknowledge how his stomach clenched in pride at the recognition of his partner._

_The man continued, “coz’ if you don’t want him no more I’d love to play with him a little bit.” His perverse and greasy smile left no doubt in Nezumi’s mind about what he meant by ‘play’.  
_

_Nezumi welcomed the rage, the white-hot anger, like an old friend. He understood anger: he’d lived with it his whole life, a constant reminder of the fire that had destroyed everything. He felt his lips twist into a smirk that promised pain. He felt more than saw the flicker of hesitation in his prey. Because that’s what he had become. Nezumi smiled wider; he had become the predator, and he loved the moment his opposition realized that._

_Nezumi didn't get along with people, preferring his company to that of others. He always held everyone who tried to get close at arm’s length, knowing that people would hurt you in the end - they weren’t worth the suffering. However, he hated admitting it, but there were ones that he had come to care for. He would deny that claim until he was blue in the face, but he would protect them, no matter the consequence. He didn't register that this man couldn't do anything to Shion with the boy living safely in the confines of No. 6’s sector. He just registered this man as a threat._

_He would throw away his life for them. He would hurt others for them. He would become a monster for them._

_“Why don’t we play for a bit then?”_

_He was faster than before, and he was vicious. This wasn't about getting his bag back anymore, and Ken knew that. This was about protecting his friends. You don't provoke a wolf’s cubs. The fight was over before he knew it, standing over the bruised and battered body of the man. Ken was whimpering now, all bravado gone. But he supposed anyone would be scared with a knife pressed to their chest._

_Nezumi was tired. He didn't want to do this anymore. He glared at the man underneath him, daring him to so much as think as move. But Ken knew when the fight was over. He stayed put as Nezumi stood up and stepped back. Nezumi looked at the knife in his hand, admiring the way the sunlight glinted off the surface as he threw it up and down. Ken’s eyes nervously followed the gesture._

_“Relax asshole, I’m not going to hurt you anymore,” Nezumi scoffed. “There’s no need to hurt anyone anymore.” He added in a softer voice. “ Our world isn’t like that anymore.”_

_Ken was standing now, brushing the dust off his clothes as he tried to gather his dignity back. He snorted._

_“Boy we will always be like this. A broken wall don’t change our past. So ya need to wake the hell up if ya think we’ll ever be fixed.”_

_Nezumi walked over and grabbed his back, daring him to try and stop him again. Nezumi ignored Ken’s mini speech entirely. He was too sore and tired for this shit. They turned and walked away from each other; Ken towards the open desert, and Nezumi towards his old home. West Block only an hour away, and he may as well go visit._

* * *

 

Nezumi sighed. He just wanted to lie down and sleep for at least 7 years. The bench he sat on was empty save for him and his puny little bag. He glared at it, as if blaming for his aching muscles. He rubbed his fingers over his temples, trying to massage away the oncoming migraine. The punch to the jaw, despite not bruising, had affected his head enough that it was throbbing hours after the encounter. The stream of increasingly loud and excited voices didn't exactly help either. He put his head between his knees, feeling more alone than ever, as the flood of people continued on around him. He grit his teeth, ignoring the way it made his head pulse.

 

\---

 

The insistent throbbing of his head and stiff muscles made it painfully obvious that he had fallen asleep. In some recess of his mind he realized that he shouldn't have let his guard down, but he couldn't exactly bring himself to care. He also realized that falling asleep was dangerous considering that he might have a concussion, but he was alive. He didn't know if he should be grateful or not for that. He sat upright, ignoring the way his vision swam and swung his arms around, hoping to relieve some of the tightness. He worked his way through his injuries, cataloguing their severity, until he heard a sound that froze him to his very bones.

A little tinkling laugh. It blended in with the sounds of the crowd, but he still heard it. It still stood out to him.

A laugh that was seared into his memory, his very essence. One that used to bring a smile to his own face, that now made him freeze in fear. _He isn’t supposed to be here._

He found his eyes scanning the crowd, looking for the owner of such a carefree laugh. He refused to believe that it was because he missed him, telling himself that he needed to know the direction of the voice so that he could escape in the opposite direction. It took a few seconds before Nezumi registered that he was standing on the bench, and jumped down, ignoring the stares of the crowd. He fought down the blush that threatened his face, feeling the heat in his neck. He heard the laugh again, and felt his emotions warring with each other.

_Exhilaration. Fear. Longing. Horror. Desperation. Sadness._

That’s when he spotted him, and his stomach turned to lead. Shion was standing a dozen yards away, laughing with- _is that Inukashi?!_ Their hair was tied back, and they were _clean._ He scoffed at the thought of Inukashi acting all prim and proper with hygiene. It’s not like they ever gave a shit before.

Nezumi couldn't move, his eyes were glued to the boy with the white hair. He was holding a brown bag, filled with what looked like apples. Shion was laughing at something Inukashi was saying, who was waving their arms around in a frenzy.

Nezumi’s vision was still a little blurry, but he could still make out the dark circles under the boy’s eyes, could still make out his thin frame. Nezumi felt nauseous. He can’t see him. He can’t go near him. He doesn’t deserve him. Shion needed to move on, needed to live safely and freely. And he couldn't do that with Nezumi. The image of Shion standing above the man, covered in blood the darkest blood, flashed in his mind. He remembered Shion’s horrified expression once he realized. Nezumi remembered his own revelation: _this is his fault. I can’t break him anymore.  
_

For months he ignored the subtle changes in Shion. Ignored the gradual loss of mercy, the increase in survival skills, the loss of his usual chatter. Ignored it, refusing to acknowledge that it was because of him. He played off all of this, telling himself that it was an unfortunate inevitability of living in West Block. It was only until he saw Shion kill a man, that he realized it was Nezumi’s fault. He should’ve left Shion alone. He broke Shion, and he knew that the only way for Shion to fix himself was to move on. Shion was too sweet, too naïve, too innocent a person to blame Nezumi. Nezumi had enough self-blame for both of them. Weeks after Nezumi had left, he would throw up, the guilt and dread a heavy burden on his stomach.

As he looked at Shion now, he realized that he didn't need to worry anymore. Shion was safe. Shion was happy. ‘ _Without him’_ his brain added, quite unnecessarily. Shion was safe, and that was all that mattered.

He was so startled by that realization, that he didn't see the man in front of him. Nezumi crashed into him, causing the man’s shopping to go sprawling across the dusty ground. Well, that wasn't very good. The man’s ears had gone pink, and he started yelling at Nezumi. _Oh god, please don't cause a scene._ Nezumi was backing away slowly, his hands upraised and softly apologizing. He was glancing between the angry male in front of him and Shion in dread. _Please don’t see me._

Nezumi had no doubt in him that Shion would’ve heard the commotion by now. Nezumi was desperate, whispering apologies and pardons. He needed to _leave._ He can’t see Shion again. He just _can’t._ His stomach was dropping with each second the man refused to accept his apologies.

Shion’s head perked, ever so slightly and looked around. He looked confused and concerned. Knowing Shion, he would try to diffuse the fight.

Thankfully, the crowd had gotten thick enough around them that Shion wouldn't be able to see them. Nezumi had never ben more grateful towards the curiosity of humans than he had in that moment. Shion wouldn't see him unless they moved closer.

Aaaaaand he was moving closer. That was Nezumi’s cue to run. He dropped his hands and spun, ignoring the angry protests of the angry man. He pushed aside the crowd, the surprised and angry cries fading into the roar of blood in his ears. He ran for what seemed like ages, despite it being only a few minutes.

Each footstep was filled with regret, each shuddering breath filled with unsaid words. He wanted nothing more than to run to Shion, to hold him, to beg for forgiveness. He wanted nothing more except for Shion to live happily. And he can’t do that with Nezumi. _Why is life so fucking hard?_

He stopped at an alley. He was panting, his lungs crying out for oxygen, his body struggling for air. Nezumi leaned against the wall, and ran his hands through his tangled pony.

He started laughing then. He was such an _idiot._ He didn't know why he ever worried. The relief was enough to lift some of the dread he had been carrying since he had left. His body was shaking now, his hand clasped over his mouth. He wasn't sure why, but his face was wet. His eyes were dripping tears. He wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying. His knees finally gave out and he slid against the wall. He was shaking so hard that his teeth were chattering. He gripped his legs in a vain attempt to stop himself from shaking, to pull himself together. He was falling apart. 

Coming here was a very bad idea. He shouldn’t have tried to come home. He should have known it wouldn't turn out well. Nothing ever did for him.

Nezumi was panicking, was drowning internally, and no one knew. No one cared. His chest was shaking with desperate need to breathe. But no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't get air into his lungs, and it wasn't from running this time. He was pathetic; he can’t even look at Shion without breaking down. He didn't even know why he was freaking out. Shion was safe, he was alive, and so was Nezumi as a matter of fact, so _why was he so upset?_

“Shion, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come back. Oh god what was I thinking?” Nezumi was babbling to himself, was so lost in his mind, so lost in his tears that he startled when someone spoke.

“Why are you sorry?”

 

* * *

 

Shion couldn't stop laughing; Inukashi was describing one of her encounters with a customer.

“-and then he just slipped. He slid right past me and slammed into the wall. _How does one even manage to do something like that on dirt?!”_ Shion choked, clutching his groceries to his chest as he shook. Every week they met up at the markets. The experience was supposed to be limited to gathering groceries, but had quickly become a time for stories when Inukashi decided to join.

This was one of Shion’s favourite times. He loved Inukashi. He smiled widely, his eyes glittering. He loved all his friends. His smile drooped a little. He missed some of them. He ignored the voice that chimed in _‘one in particular’._ Shion shook his head, now was not the time to reminisce.

Inukashi was still going on, widely gesturing with their hands. Shion never grew tired of Inukashi’s stories, and there was always a new one. This one was particularly amusing. Shion gigged again.

A sharp voice surprised them both. Inukashi’s mouth tipped into a frown, clearly unhappy at being interrupted. It isn’t the first time there’s been a fight down here. Even after two years, some people were still sketchy about the idea of combining the two areas, and tensions still ran high. He can’t remember how many of those fights he’s had to diffuse. There are certain duties required of someone who works in the Restoration Committee, and even if he wasn't in it, he doesn't like people fighting. He’s seen enough of that. He sighed. 

Inukashi glanced over, a smirk playing across their lips. “Want me to teach them a lesson?”

“It’s ok Inukashi, I can do it,” he replied, smiling softly in gratitude. Inukashi offered him a sympathetic smile, they knew how tough diffusing these fights could be. 

The yelling was getting louder now, and the crowd was obviously interested. Shion rose on his tiptoes, attempting to see over the crowd. He hated being small. He could make out the man yelling, a large man red in the face, but he couldn't see who he was yelling at. As he made his way closer, he saw a figure dash from the crowd.

Shion froze. He didn't think twice. He dropped the bag in his hand and ran, ignoring Inukashi’s surprised cry. He didn't want to hope. He tried so hard to crush it. He ran, jumping over crates of food and sliding on the dirt. His legs were burning and his lungs were crying out for air, but he still couldn't catch up, the person was always a few metres ahead of him. His body cried in relief when he saw the person slow down and head into an alley. He stopped, putting his hands on his knees and dragging in air. It’s been a while since he last ran anywhere. When he deemed his lungs satisfactorily filled with air, he wandered into the alley. He hoped they hadn’t run anyway, but he was pretty sure it was a dead end.

He stopped short. A figure was crouched on the floor, clutching themself. Hands ran through their long messy ponytail. The air he had struggled to gather suddenly rushed out of him. _He was here._ And he was shaking and muttering to himself. Shion struggled to hear, and felt his stomach turn to lead.

“Shion, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come back. Oh god what was I thinking?” Nezumi was whispering to himself, clearly lost in his thoughts. Shion felt his heart stutter. Shion had been so sure that he was the only one suffering, that Nezumi was fine and safe. He knew now just how stupid that train of thought had been. By the looks of it, Nezumi had been suffering just as much as Shion, maybe even more. His eyes felt hot. He didn't realize he had spoken until he saw Nezumi freeze.

 

“Why are you sorry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS IN OVER A MONTH. PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I've been so busy with exam block and study and i haven't really had motivation to finish this chapter. However next chapter will have them talking to each other so just please hold on. (the future may see some domestic Shion x Nezumi so be patient pls) 
> 
> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THAT CHAPTER. Please tell me how you feel about the fic so far, i absolutely LOVE hearing from you guys. Thank you x


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